


Vacuum

by triumphforks



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 16:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triumphforks/pseuds/triumphforks
Summary: An interpretation of a conversation that may or may not have happened between Someoka and Ishido Shuuji, as based on the Go game.





	Vacuum

It was a rare moment he could have to himself, and he took advantage of it. Things were always hectic before a game, especially the kinds they’d been hosting lately; without any kind of structure planned, without a pre-determined ending. He’d be lying to say he didn’t enjoy watching Fifth Sector get all in a scramble over it all. There were still some things he could enjoy!   
  
The sun was bright on this particular day. He’d snuck out of the gloom and on to the roof of one of the stadium’s entrance tunnels, leaning on the safety rail to watch the teams in their warm-up below. And how the sight took him back! He was too far to hear any of their chatter, but just watching he could sense the energy, the excitement, the thrill that only came from that pre-game anticipation. It was like-   
  
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”   
  
That voice. It wasn’t..? He straightened and turned, trying to pull himself taller, prouder, haughtier, to fall back in to the mask he’d been rid of, if only for a moment.   
  
“… And who do you think it is you’ve found? The man you kne-“   
“Yeah, you can drop the act. I’m not Endou. You’re not going to fool me.”   
  
That made him smile, and he felt his stance relax. The other man - tall, dark, short pink hair - sauntered over, still talking.   
  
“Also, I passed Toramaru on the way in. For someone who’s been hiding so well all these years, you sure seem easy to find.”   
“It’s taken you all long enough. I decided to make things easier.” When was the last time he’d spoken so lightly? Because there was an air to his voice now, one he hadn’t realised he’d missed. Someoka came up beside him, leaning down on the security barrier, and he turned to do the same. A breeze picked up; carrying on it a freshness, and a few snatched words of conversation. A calm moment. An easy moment. Something he’d been missing.   
  
“We’re all worried, you know. Them most of all.” Someoka gestured to the field, to where the Raimon side gathered, and he didn’t need to say who he was talking about.   
  
He stayed silent. He knew. Oh, how he knew. And he could feel that same feeling that came up whenever he thought about it, that one that lurched up inside and caught at his head and his heart and the breath in his lungs, and quietly cursed that he’d let the bright, calm moment get chased away.   
  
“You going to tell me what’s going on? Gouenji.”   
  
He was silent still. Truth be told, he froze at the sound of his name. How long had it been? He couldn’t look at the field. Instead his eyes diverted to… to something else, anything else. His brows furrowed, and he found himself staring at his own shadow, shifting uncomfortably. Had the wind always been that cold? He could feel the man beside him waiting for an answer, could feel something like impatience building, but he couldn’t bring himself to look.   
  
“Don’t you answer to that anymore? Ishido Shuuji?”   
“Don’t-“   
“Or is it ‘Seitei’?” _“Don’t-“_   
  
He was grabbed by the shoulder - hard. Forced to turn, forced to face his friend, forced to see for himself the hurt and anger and confusion he had put there.   
  
“Don’t we deserve to know?” Someoka’s voice was tense. It had been light before, almost joking, almost that same old rapport they’d always had. But this wasn’t like ‘always’, was it? He pulled himself away. Averted his eyes, again. And only said softly:   
  
“I can’t.”   
  
“Oh, you can’t? That’s not something I thought I’d ever hear Gouenji Shuuya say.” The other man leant back heavy on the railing, body tense, almost aggressively staring at the players below. “You’d told young 14 year old me, warming up on a field like that, that one day he’d be trying to get _Gouenji Shuuya_ to enjoy soccer again, and he’d laugh right in your damn face.” Still, he stayed silent. What could he say to that? He wouldn’t have believed it himself. Moments passed. Someoka stood there, clenching and unclenching crossed arms, watching but not really seeing the routine below. He knew that wouldn’t be the end of this.   
  
“I spoke to Fubuki-“ Someoka shot a glance at him. Still, silence. “He said he got fired.” Another glance. More silence. “Said he got a call from you, of all people, warning him about it.” The man pushed back slightly off the railing, as if to stretch. His voice had calmed a bit now, but there was still a tension there. “Seems to me it’s not Ishido Shuuji who is making all the calls here.”   
  
Another glance. That one almost got a rise. He did shift under that gaze, trying to hide his discomfort as simply fixing the fall of his jacket.   
  
“Look, I’m going back to Italy tomorrow. I won’t get in your way. So you might as well just tell me.” His voice was downright _patient_ now. That wasn’t the Someoka he knew!   
  
He could feel eyes on him. And maybe it was that tone of voice, or maybe he was looking for an excuse, but he was compelled to meet them. So he did - brows still furrowed, as they seemed to always be lately, eyes not the hard and self-assured ones that belonged to Ishido Shuuji, but instead ones that were softer. Sadder. Ones that couldn’t believe what they’d become.   
  
“You can’t tell Endou,” he started, slightly shaken at how weak his own pleading voice sounded. “You know him. He can’t lie, and it won’t work if he thinks…”   
“If he thinks what? That there’s still some bit of you left in there?”   
  
He left that, falling quiet. Looking back at the field, where the teams were starting to get in to formation. Where his old friends were standing, tense at the sideline, full of anxiety, because of him.   
  
“… I don’t know what I’m doing, to be honest. I just want to fix things.”   
“ _This_ is your idea of fixing things?”   
“It… it works. In a way.”   
  
That was met with a scoff.   
  
“I guess it does, if you like having no sense of freedom.”   
“You think we were free?”   
  
It was the other party’s turn to be silent. And it was different, he knew - he knew Someoka would be questioning how he could ever think they were anything but, compared to what their sport was like now.   
  
“We weren’t free. They just had to hide how they controlled us.”   
“Did you hit your head?”   
“You don’t remember when our coach cut the breaks on our bus?”   
  
A proper silence, now.   
  
“You could go down there and ask Kidou how free he felt at Teikoku, if you want. Or all those other teams that lost to them in the last forty years. Or Aphrodi - I’m sure he has fond memories of the Water of the Gods.” Still silence. His old friend was thinking now, he could tell, and if he was ever going to be understood, it was now or never - he’d have to push through. “Someoka… my sister almost died. I was good at soccer, and she almost died because of it. Even now I- she says she’s fine, I know that- but she’s in pain, and she’ll live with that her whole life. Because of me. Because someone wanted to control all of this.” He gestured to the field, and the players all aligned.   
  
“We stopped that,” was the tense reply.   
“Did we? We stopped Kageyama. But he was never alone. And we grew up, we moved on, and those people who thought like him stepped in his place and started it all up again.”   
  
It was his turn to steal a look at his friend. And he could see it there, on his brow - thinking.   
  
“It hurts for these kids now. I know that. God, don’t think I don’t know that. But they’re whole. They’re _alive_. And if I can keep them alive, just for a few years, they’ll be out of it and in the real world and then they can play with all the freedom they want.”   
“And did you ask any of them if they wanted that?”   
“Do you want dead teenagers?”   
“Don’t take it to extremes just to prove your point.”   
  
He laughed at that. But it was a sad laugh. Bittersweet.   
  
“Fifth Sector was happening, whether we wanted it to or not. I just made sure there was someone in it we could trust.”   
He felt eyes on him, again.   
“Can we trust you?”   
  
That one cut. He almost winced - not audibly, but it was clear on his face.   
  
“I hope so.”   
  
The other man sighed.   
  
“Even still… I can’t agree with this.”   
He was quiet. Fair.   
“These kids deserve more. And Gouenji, you know it. You would have hated this.”   
He was quiet still. Again, fair.   
“I’ve heard about how they train them.. Seeds? And how heavy handed your so-called organisation is with any dissent. To be honest, before I got here, I didn’t want to believe any of it. I didn’t want to believe it was you.”   
“I’m just trying to help. However I can.” That got a laugh. The defeated, disbelieving kind.   
  
“You can do better than that.”   
  
At that, the starting whistle blew. The teams laid out before them sprung in to life, to a match where no one could predict the ending. Both of them watched, for a moment, letting the scene wash over them. Until finally, one of them spoke.   
  
“You know this is wrong.”   
  
He didn’t answer. He knew he didn’t have to. Someoka pushed off the railing, swinging back on his heels. “I better get down there. I have the feeling my student’s going to need a pep talk.” He smiled at that - the thought was so mundane, so nostalgic.   
  
“Good luck.”  
“Yeah. No thanks to you.” He was met with a slap against his back, and then the sound of footsteps, walking away.   
  
He stayed still, for a moment. Let the breeze wash over him. Breathed it in, deeply - sharp, cold, biting. He stretched back and closed his eyes, trying to picture the game in his mind. Tried to picture what it had been like, so many years ago. When it was true - when he had felt free.   
  
He stood like that, for a moment. But then he opened his eyes, and along with the light his reality came flooding back in, and he knew he couldn’t stay out here, in the sun, in the breeze, any longer. When he opened his eyes, he had to be Ishido Shuuji again - and he knew there were people roaming dark halls with dark agendas, wondering exactly where he’d run off to.


End file.
